The Inbetween
The funeral was to come next.
James hated this time of year.
The once bright and juvenile snow became dark and molded down into a slush that made a terrible squelching noise whenever it was walked through. It was like the purgatory between seasons, it wasn’t quite winter, though it couldn’t be described as spring. It rained far too much, and James had never been a big fan of the rain.
He missed the flowers that blossomed from nothing and the birds that would sing sweet melodies as he flew around the pitch.
Suppose he would consider himself lucky that he got to miss out on his least favorite time of year, locked away in the house, trying to come up with some sort of way to forget the images in his head.
He didn’t sleep, but he wouldn’t cook, and he wouldn’t play piano, he wouldn’t touch anything that reminded him of his mother. Their home wasn’t a home anymore, and James and Monty were trying to figure out how to live again.
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Things would have been better if she had lived.
While this is easy to say when someone dies, James truly believed it.
Even though everything that happened after her death was Jamie's own fault, still when he lost her, he had lost sight of anything that may have led him to someplace happier, to someplace more popular, or a more congenial life.
Euphemia Potters' death was the dividing mark, there was a before, and there was an after.
Before, After.
You see, Effie had this way of making you see the world the way it could be. Everything came alive when she was around, she cast this theatrical light that illuminated everything she touched, and could make you see in bright colours opposed to the ordinary.
It’s a funny thing when people die.
The world does not fall off its axis, it does not stop spinning, and the sun always comes up again.
Before.
He remembered, only a few weeks ago, he had taken his mother out for dinner. She had insisted upon some small diner, and he had obliged, only looking to make her happy.
After
Even though it is quite a depressing thing to admit, he had never met anyone who has ever made him feel as loved as she did, and the only person who had ever come close was Regulus Black.
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Perhaps it had started in the fourth year, or perhaps it was something that had been around for longer. He wasn’t positive, since he had spent so much time trying to suppress his feelings for the other boy. Regulus Black was perfect.
As Regulus Black smiled, James swore the world had stopped spinning. Time had frozen this moment, a rarity that he could never get enough of. For a man who walked around as if he was constructed of marble, James could feel the radiance of the sun whenever he was around. He would latch onto every second of this, the image permanently engraved into his mind.
The word ‘handsome’ was never enough when describing the boy.
Jamie never had an issue being vulnerable. His parent not only showed him that he was loved, but they taught him how to love. When James loved someone, he loved them with every part of his being, everything he had was put into it. No matter how hard the pair tried to keep it a secret, no matter how much had to be kept unspoken, everyone knew that James Potter loved Regulus Black.
Now they stood side by side in the pouring rain.
James did not cry, he had nothing left to give.
He simply stared blankly at the wooden box that held his mother, staring into the hole that would return her to the earth.
Everyone was dressed in black, the roses were the only hint of colour that could be found. (James had tried to get a different flower, though everyone told him roses were what one was supposed to give to the dead. And who was he to argue what the dead wanted.) It was a rather bleak scene, so many people had gathered to mourn the Sun’s death, so many people had been touched by her warm rays and longed to have one more minute with her.
Monty had tried to keep his stone walls high, though he could only rebuild them so many times, a steady stream of salty tears running down the man's cheeks.
Fleamont never spent much time around anymore, locked away in his office late into the night, no doubt mourning the death of his wife.
James couldn’t stand to be around anymore, so he left soon after to go back to his apartment with Sirius.
Regulus had slipped his hand into Jamies, lacing their fingers together, James’ quidditch ring shined on the other’s ring finger.
His friends couldn’t get him to eat, they couldn’t get him to talk, and they couldn’t really get him to do much of anything other than practice. Regulus was the only one who had any sort of influence over the other.
As much as Sirius hated the idea of James seeing his brother, he didn’t have the heart to tear them apart after James had lost his mother. So, Regulus spent a fair portion of his time at the boy's shared apartment.
James had hardly uttered a word all day, though this was broken when he leaned over to whisper something to the other boy,
“I need to talk to you after this. I have an idea.”